


Vivarium

by MiladyMorningstar (PrincessPestilence)



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anxiety, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Haunted House, Horror, M/M, Monster Crowley (Good Omens), Other, Paranoia, Smut, Snakes, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27074620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessPestilence/pseuds/MiladyMorningstar
Summary: Aziraphale moves into an old, abandoned cottage in Devil's Dike, but his new home is not as empty as he'd previously thought.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Vivarium

Aziraphale stepped out of his car and stared up at the house he had just perchased, squeezing the keys between his fingers. It was perfect.

Well, no, it wasn't perfect. It was actually rather run-down, uninhabited for a number of years before Aziraphale moved in. Really quite the ”fixer-upper”, in fact. But it was just the right size for him alone, situated in the coziest little hamlet away from all the hustle and bustle and  _ people _ in the city, all of which Aziraphale would be perfectly content to avoid for the rest of his life.

At thirty he genuinely believed he'd peaked. Already reputable in the book-restoration trade, Aziraphale finally had the money and the time to fullfil his lifelong (or at least several years long) dream of retiring to the country. Just him and his books, and other people's books but that was for work, really.

And now here he was in his own cottage in the South Downs, a mile outside of town. It was small, two bedrooms, one of which would be made into his work office, a living room with bookshelves already built into the walls; shelves Aziraphale was sure he could fill with his extensive collection. There was a generously sized kitchen and a lovely garden, though when Aziraphale asked who kept it up the real estate agent got a little nervous.

No matter, though. Aziraphale would find out sooner or later and pay them for their hard work. He certainly wasn't about to get his nails dirty, but the rosebushes were  _ so _ lovely.

There was an odd... ambiance that Aziraphale couldn't quite put his finger on, but he was sure it would clear up once he was fully settled in.

*

It didn't go away.

*

The hair on the back of Aziraphale’s neck had been raised all week. Several times he woke in the night to the feeling of eyes on him, like all the portraits in the room were people staring at him through the windows, only there were no portraits in Aziraphale’s room, and drapes on his one window and Aziraphale could not for the life of him pinpoint exactly where the feeling was originating from. 

It followed him in the daylight hours as well. The feeling of being watched in the garden when no one was in view. Of being spied upon in his kitchen though he knew,  _ knew _ for a fact that he was alone in the cottage. The paranoia was putting him on edge, and twice he’d almost dropped his favourite mug because his hands had been shaking with nerves. 

When the knock finally came, Aziraphale nearly jumped out of his skin, though the sudden release of all the tension he’d been carrying made him want to cry. 

Setting his shoulders like a soldier going to battle, Aziraphale steeled himself to face whomever it was that had been torturing him these last few days and mentally prepared to give them a piece of his mind for frightening him so.

Scowling fiercely he opened the door.

…To an elderly woman toting a ceramic casserole dish.

He withheld a flinch, forcibly reigning himself in. “Erm… Hello. How can I help you?” He asked, a little poleaxed. 

The woman smiled beatifically at him. “Oh hello, dear! So good to meet you, I’m Eunice. I live just down the lane, there. I’d seen that a nice young man had moved into this old pile and thought ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if he had a good, proper welcome? Why I ought to make him some shepherd’s pie!’ Do you like shepherd’s pie, lad? I made it with beef in case you aren’t one for lamb. Not everyone is, you know. Some people find the taste too gamey. Not I! No, no, but you never really know with others, do you?”

As a matter of fact, Aziraphale loved lamb. “Ah… no, I suppose you don’t. Please, won’t you come in? I’ve just put on some tea.”

“Oh, that would be just lovely!” Eunice enthused, making herself welcome. “You’ve done such a nice job with the interior, dear. Why, I remember when the Elsegoods lived here; their housekeeping was never quite so good as this, if I may say so. So many books! Old Nancy and Harold, they moved away to Brighton, I believe, some thirty, forty years ago now? It’s so nice to see such a lovely cottage finally have some life in it!”

“Forty years ago?” Aziraphale wondered as he placed Eunice’s dish on the worktop. “I admit, the place looked unlived it, but you mean to say it’s been uninhabited longer than I’ve been alive? Surely someone must have moved in in the meantime. And what about the garden? Someone must be tending it. Cream and sugar?”

“Have you got honey and lemon? Oh thank you, that’s just lovely,” Eunice accepted the cup and saucer, settling herself into his upholstered kitchen chair. “No, I don’t suppose anyone would bother coming all the way out here, outside of town and all. This old house has a reputation for being haunted, you know, locals won’t come near it! Hogwash of course, I say! No one’s ever died in this house as far as I know.”

A cold shiver ran down Aziraphale’s spine. “Haunted, you say?”

Eunice nodded. “Oh yes, well that’s what the children believe. As I said, no one’s ever died here. Haunted? Pah! I hope you don’t buy into that nonsense, dear. It really is so nice having someone bring a bit of love to this old place. Such a darling little cottage, don’t you think?”

“Yes, actually. That was why I bought it. It looked just perfect for someone like me. I saw the listing and thought ‘I have to have it!’ I must admit, though, it does have quite the strange, ah… aura, wouldn’t you say?”

Eustace looked at him shrewdly over her half-moon glasses. “Well, you know how old houses are, dear.”

Aziraphale smiled nervously. “Yes well, that’s what I thought. You said you lived down the street? Have we any other neighbours then?”

“Oh, no. Nobody else lives this far out of town. I’m afraid it’s just me and Fitzy - that’s my cat. And now you! You simply must come round to visit me, it’s been ages since I last had some good company, and you’re such a sweet boy. What was your name again?”

* 

Eunice was a windstorm of a person, but Aziraphale had to admit she made a damn good shepherd’s pie. Though the feeling of being watched didn’t go away, he fell asleep with a full stomach and slept better than he had since he’d moved in. 

*

There was a dead rabbit on his back step. 

Swallowing back bile, Aziraphale donned his washing gloves and placed the hare in a paper sack and dragged it out to the back garden. There was an old shovel in the spider-infested shed that Aziraphale used to dig a shallow grave for the poor creature before hurrying inside to make himself a strong Irish coffee. 

*

There was another there the next day.

And the next. 

At this point, Aziraphale was sure there was some cat somewhere who had taken a shining to him, only he hadn’t seen any cats since he’d moved in. In fact, all he’d found so far, poking around the house and garden, were snakes. 

Quite a lot of them, really. 

He hesitated to say the house was infested with them, since they didn’t seem to cause much of a disturbance, mostly sunbathing on the rocks or slithering around his garden bed. Once he’d found one coiled up in the corner of his kitchen, but it was so docile when he picked it up and set it gently outside that Aziraphale couldn’t actually find it in him to be concerned. 

They didn’t  _ appear _ to be venomous in any case. 

Still, snakes didn’t have a habit of hunting for humans, did they?

*

Or perhaps they did. 

Aziraphale was coming up on one month in the cottage and he’d started actually learning to prepare the offered kills, if only to spare his garden from becoming a pet cemetery. Or, animal cemetery in any case, as none of the animals appeared to be pets of any kind. Rabbits, pigeons, fieldmice, voles. 

Aziraphale took to burying the smaller rodents, but the third time a Rabbit appeared on his step he Googled how to skin it. If nothing else, the kills were clean and the meat was fresh and Aziraphale ended up with rather a lovely stew out of the ordeal. 

*

It was when he tried to leave that the feeling came back full force. An inexplicable nervousness set in when he got into his car, looking up at the masonry of his home’s visage. He couldn’t decipher the reason for his anxiety; couldn’t tell if he was afraid to leave or afraid to return or afraid to leave the cottage unattended. 

All of the above, perhaps. 

Or maybe it was the house’s own fears pushing in on him…

In any case, he completed his run to the shops as quickly as possible. 

“Oh, Aziraphale! How good to see you! How are you settling in? Won’t you come to visit later?” Eunice greeted him in the bread aisle at the grocery. 

“Eunice, hello,” Aziraphale responded listlessly. “I’m afraid not, I’m feeling rather under the weather today, actually.”

Eunice actually patted his face with her gnarled hand, checking his temperature. “Yes, you do feel a bit clammy, dear. Best get home as soon as possible.” 

“I’m beginning to think I had better.”

*

The flood of relief upon returning home was overwhelming. Instantly, the headache that had been encroaching behind his eyes faded, along with the first hints of nausea he’d felt in the store. 

So relieved was he to be home, in fact, he actually stroked the scales of the snake awaiting him on the front gate. 

*

The longer he stayed in the house, the less he bothered with the snakes. 

He felt almost like Eunice with her cat, like they were simply the companions he shared his home with; to say nothing of the fact that he most decidedly did  _ not  _ invite them in. Still, he stopped relocating them out past the garden gate when he saw them, instead leaving them to harass the rosebushes or colonise the windowsill. 

The snakes were becoming more and more audacious as the days past, as well. 

When he felt the tug and pressure of a small, black scaled snake climbing up his trouser leg, Aziraphale did little else but lift the creature onto his shoulder so it could snuffle happily in his golden curls. 

It was around this time that he had to admit that there were definitely more than he had originally estimated. Bizarrely, it was a comfort more than a concern when he felt the back of his neck prickle, only to turn and see a snake peeking out from between his books, or from behind the doorjamb. 

Fleetingly he thought he ought to be unnerved at the thought that his house was truly, positively infested with the creatures, but they were hardly a nuisance, and it was better to know that he  _ was _ being watched, in a way, than to wonder about it, stewing in his own paranoia. 

He was actually growing comfortable in this old house.

*

It was past midnight, three months in, that everything came to a head. 

A nightmare had woken him, leaving him gasping for breath as he lay blinking in the darkness. 

“Shhh,” a voice hushed. “Sssaffe” 

Startling, Aziraphale launched himself out of bed, staring at the vague shape he could just barely make out in the faint luminescence of the moonlight shining through the lace of his curtains. 

“Who.. who are you?? How did you get into my house?!” Aziraphale demanded, heart beating wildly in his chest as he thought around for a weapon of some sort. 

He saw the person on the other side of his bed stand up, hands held out placatingly. “Shhhh,” they said again. “Calm. Sssaffe, Azzziraphale.” Their voice was a deep, susurrant whisper.

“How do you know my name?”

“Livve here. Watch you,” they said.

“That’s impossible,” Aziraphale answered

He couldn’t make out the person’s face, couldn’t tell even if they were a man or a woman, but Aziraphale could see the glow of their eyes in the darkness. 

“Met me. Met my sssnakess.” 

Aziraphale flinched. “ _ Your  _ snakes? But there’s hundreds of them? How could they all possibly belong to you? And I assure you, I most certainly have not met you before in my life!”

“ _ Am _ ssnakess. Met  _ me _ .” At this, the stranger stood taller, rose up, actually, until their head nearly touched the ceiling and Aziraphale could just barely make out, his eyes having adjusted to the darkness, that their bottom half was a thick, massive trunk.

A tail. 

Effortlessly, they crossed the bed, winding themselves around Aziraphale before he had the chance to run. Their skin was surprisingly warm, if he had the presence of mind to wonder about such a thing. 

“Do not be afraid, Azzziraphale. Will not hurt you. Will keep you. Sssafe.”

“Y-you-” Aziraphale swallowed thickly, heart hammering as he felt the stranger, strange  _ thing _ nuzzle at his hair like the little snakelets liked to do. “You said you’re the snakes. All of them?” Not the most important question, perhaps, but Aziraphale was having a hard time keeping his wits about him. 

“Yesss. Am me. Am ssnakess. Many eyess.” 

“You’ve been watching me.”

Aziraphale felt the flicker of a serpentine tongue against his ear. “Yessss.”

“Why?”

The creature shrugged. “Iss my housse. Don’t like tresssspasserss.”

Aziraphale shivered. “I- I- I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “I’ll leave tomorrow. Or right now! I’ll leave now!” But the creature squeezed him tighter, winding a loop of scales around his legs to keep him in place.

“No. Ssstay. With me. Sssaffe.”

Aziraphale’s breath hitched. “Safe? You mean to say I’m safe? Here? With you?”

“Yesss. My Azzziraphale. Ffeed you. Keep you. Like your hair…” Warm, long fingers combed through his bed-tousled hair. 

“Feed me?” he asked, heart slowing just slightly as the creature comforted him. 

“Liked the rabbits,” they said simply. 

Aziraphale gasped. “ _ You _ left me the rabbits?” he asked, surprised. 

The creature nodded his head, Aziraphale felt long tendrils of hair brush against his clavicle at the movement. “Welcome.”

“Thank you,” he said automatically. Then, “What is your name, anyway?”

“Crowley,” Crowley smiled against his skin. “Come,” said Crowley, unwinding enough to pull Aziraphale forward until he tumbled back onto the bed. “Are ssafe. Ssssleep. No fffear.”

“You… want to watch me sleep?”

“Like to watch you.”

Should he feel pleased at such a notion? Probably not. But Crowley had not been threatening to him so far. 

“I really don’t think I’ll be able to sleep any time soon,” Aziraphale said anyway. “What  _ are  _ you??”

Crowley shrugged as they situated themself next to Aziraphale on the mattress, pressing in close. “Am Crowley.”

“Of course”, Aziraphale accepted in disappointment. “Could I… That is, would you mind if I turned on the light? Please? Only, I’d be more comfortable if I could see you.”

“Ssee me?”

“Yes, well, I can’t see in the dark now, can I? I can only see the faintest glimpse of your outline and I’d really rather prefer to see who I’m speaking with in my own bedroom.”

“My bedroom,” Crowley muttered, but reached across him to flick on the lamp.

Aziraphale and Crowley both winced at the sudden brightness, but Aziraphale was soon fully entranced in the being next to him. They were nude, which Aziraphale had felt for himself earlier, but they were also beautiful. He’d expected a horrifying but mesmerising monster, but Crowley was nothing of the sort. A mermaid - merman? - but with coils of sleek black and red scales dripping off of Aziraphale’s bed, blending up to soft, porcelain skin, dappled here and there with scales like freckles across his cheeks and collar bones and the soft wrinkles of his elbows. And the most gorgeous auburn waves Aziraphale had ever seen, long and luscious and beautiful. 

And then there were the eyes. Solid yellow with a serpentine slit like a cat’s eyes. Or a snake’s. 

“You’re beautiful,” Aziraphale breathed, hand moving of its own accord to run a thumb along the scale-dappled bridge of Crowley’s nose. 

Crowley lent into the touch happily. “You.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, I’m nothing special,” he demured. “But you are… spectacular. I’ve never seen anything - any _ one _ , like you.”

Crowley’s brows furrowed. “Are special,” they insisted. “Ssoft,” they pressed a hand to Aziraphale’s tummy and he sucked in on impulse, but Crowley didn’t seem to notice or care. “Beautiful,” they leant closer and nuzzled his cheek. “Ssssweet.” 

Aziraphale’s breath hitched. “O-oh.”

Crowley pushed a hand up the cotton top of Aziraphale’s pyjamas. “Sso ssoft. Sso warm. Want to curl around you all the time. Keep you.” 

Aziraphale gasped as Crowley bent their head down to flick his tongue against one revealed pink nipple. “Mine.”

“Hnnnnn!” Aziraphale whimpered, knotting his fingers into Crowley’s auburn locks as Crowley grazed his nipple with their teeth before kissing away the slight sting. They kissed their way down Aziraphale’s chest and stomach, rubbing their face into the soft roles of his tummy. “Ssso ssoft.” But Aziraphale could tell he meant this as a compliment, even if such words were hard to hear. 

“Yes I- I suppose I am.” 

“Like it.”

Crowley pushed their nose into the crease of Aziraphale’s pelvis and Aziraphale felt his cock twitch at Crowley’s sheer proximity. 

Without ceremony, Crowley tugged down Aziraphale’s pyjama bottoms and smeared their lips down his thick shaft. 

“Only one?” Crowley asked curiously, tongue darting out to taste the precome beading at the head. 

“O-of course there’s only one! Why do- do you have more than one?”

Crowley grinned sharkishly and raised up, revealing not one but  _ two _ phalluses standing proudly out of their genital pouch. 

“Ooohh…”

Aziraphale knew he couldn’t but in that moment he wanted nothing more than to have both those long, thin, gorgeous cocks deep inside him. 

Quickly, Aziraphale twisted to his nightstand and pulled out the bottle of lubricant that Crowley instantly recognised. 

“Give me!” they demanded, taking the bottle from him. Clearly, they had seen Aziraphale use it before because they had no trouble discerning the use. Slicking their long fingers up, Crowley lay back down between Aziraphale’s spread thighs and prodded at his twitching opening. 

“Oh yes! Yes, Crowley, open me.” Aziraphale begged, pulling his knees up to his chest to allow the creature more room to move. 

Crowley gasped and sucked on the shaft of Aziraphale’s own single cock as they pushed two fingers into his tight heat. 

Aziraphale rocked back onto the digits as best he could from his position, but holding his legs up the way they were didn’t grant him much leverage. “More!” he begged and Crowley obeyed, adding a third finger, moving them faster until he grazed Aziraphale’s prostate.

“Oh! Yes! There, right there!” Again, Crowley obeyed, paying the gland ample attention, until Aziraphale couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Enough!” 

Crowley flinched and pulled his fingers out swiftly. “Hurt?” theyasked worriedly. 

Aziraphale laughing. “No, no!” He grinned, wrapping his legs around Crowley’s smooth tail, pulling at their shoulders and pressing a kiss to their soft lips.

Crowley boggled, pressing their clean hand to their lips. Aziraphale kissed them again, deeper. “Fuck me,” he demanded, breathing into them. 

Crowley growled and Aziraphale could feel the vibration through his body, making him moan. Slicking up one of their long shafts, Crowley pressed it into Aziraphale’s body in one smooth motion, making Aziraphale keen helplessly. 

Crowley leant forward, pressing themself close against Aziraphale, their second cock pressing erotically against Aziraphale’s own and he immediately took them into his hand, stroking them as Crowley used their tail for leverage to fuck into him roughly. 

Crowley’s penis was slick and hot in Aziraphale’s hand and felt huge inside of him, grazing his prostate. They had no finesse; clearly either inexperienced or else it had been quite a lot longer than Aziraphale’s own dry spell, but they knew what to do and did it enthusiastically. 

Now that kissing was on the table, Crowley’s mouth never left Aziraphale’s skin. Pressing soft chaste kisses into his skin followed by deep, biting claims. They marked Aziraphale’s soft, pale skin and licked into his plush mouth as they fucked him just as hard and rough as Aziraphale liked.

It was the sensation of Crowley coming both onto him and inside of him that set Aziraphale off, the feeling of being fully claimed inside and out, and it washed away the last of his anxiety as his back arched and he released.

“Crowley!” he gasped, pulling them to him and kissing them messily as they rode out the best orgasm anyone had ever given him. Gabriel eat your heart out. 

“Azzziraphale…” Crowley murmured against his lips and kissed him again. 

*

Aziraphale stroked the flat head of a garter snake stretched out on his bookshelf. “Be good, dearest,” he said as he picked up a tin of coffee cakes and made his way down the street to Eunice’s small house.

He was already determined to make this a short visit; after all, he had someone to come home to now. 


End file.
